


The Rose and the Dragon

by EarlGrey16



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarlGrey16/pseuds/EarlGrey16
Summary: For a moment, it seemed that the swing of Rhaegar's sword that ended the life of Robert Baratheon at the Trident would solve all the realm's problems in an instant. Quite the opposite proved to be true as a complex web of rivalries, feuds and tentative alliances continues to dominate the Realm many years after the failed rebellion. It is in this uneasy time that a union between the Dragons and the Roses is about to be celebrated. What will it bring?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for clicking on this! After scrapping my first attempt at a fanfiction on this topic, I'm trying again. Hopefully it will be better than the first one. I will be adding chapters gradually as I write them. Please, excuse any mistakes and my limited vocabulary. Feel free to comment and enjoy!

A broken man he had returned to the Red Keep and a broken man he was to remain. But there was too much he had yet to do.

''She is dead. Even our child is dead.''

He felt her arms wrap around him in a gentle, comforting way. 

''It was all for nothing... the prophecy... so many men have died for nothing.''

He felt a tear roll down his cheek.

He freed himself from her grip. He remembered. He had made a promise before he went to face the stag. Now he had to face the dragon.

He was turning to leave when she reached for his arm, stopping him. He looked back.

''You still have us.'' 

He heard the babe cry in the wooden cradle.

He smiled wearily before leaving.


	2. Aegon I

''Your Grace.''

Ser Oswell Whent's voice echoed through the almost empty library of the Red Keep, reaching the ears of the only man there. Gentle beams of afternoon sun were creeping inside the room through its large glass windows.

''Yes?'' 

Prince Aegon lifted his eyes wearily from the book he had been reading - an account of the author's travels across Essos - to look at the knight. Ser Oswell was clad in his white Kingsguard armour and cloak, contrasting perfectly with the prince's attire, consisting of a black doublet, a matching shirt underneath and similarly dark breeches and boots. The only thing to deviate from the dark colour pattern was Aegon's hair, silvery like his Father's, yet somewhat shorter.

''I'm afraid your father requests your presence in the throne room today,'' the knight announced plainly. ''And the... expected guests have arrived,'' he quickly added, giving an encouraging smile to the young prince.

Aegon knew exactly what this meant.

 

The throne room was teeming with noble lords and ladies, knights and guards and even smallfolk lucky enough to be given an opportunity to present their petitions to the king. Aegon's father solemnly climbed the steps of the monstrosity called the Iron Throne, elegantly dressed and with the golden crown of Aegon's namesake King Aegon the Third - a simple unornamented circlet - on his head. Father's long silver hair fell down to his shoulders as he sat down among the melted swords of the Conqueror's vanquished foes. 

Aegon stood at the side of the throne while the present members of the small council sat at the table up front. Once again, the thought that one day, it would be him sitting up there crossed his mind and it sent chills down the prince's spine. Instead of lingering on the thought, Aegon turned his attention to the crowd, attempting to find the ''guests'', as Ser Oswell called them. Aegon knew very well they were far more than guests. Father began to take care of official business first, but apart from the fact that there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, Aegon didn't pay him much attention.

Finally, he saw them. The older woman wearing a hat embroidered with golden roses must have been Lady Olenna, Lord Mace's mother. That meant that the girl, or young woman rather, beside her was Margaery Tyrell, the only daughter of the Lord of Highgarden, and more importantly, his future wife, if Father's arrangements were to come to fruition.

Lady Margaery was wearing an elegant green dress and a golden necklace was glistening around her neck. She had long, somewhat curly brown hair, carefully arranged into an elaborate hairstyle. After what seemed to only be a split second of looking at them, he felt Margaery's gaze meet his. She smiled at him. All he could do at that moment was awkwardly avert his gaze, staring at the floor. _Gods. I'm such an idiot._

''Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery,'' he suddenly heard Father say from atop the throne. The two ladies stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of the small council table, curtsying politely. ''Your Grace,'' Margaery responded. Her voice was sweet and gentle. Aegon forced himself to lift his eyes towards her. Luckily, she was looking up at Father at that moment. ''I am glad you have arrived safely to the capital. And I am delighted that your house has decided to accept the betrothal between you, my lady, and my son,'' Father paused for a moment. Margaery turned to Aegon, making him blush again. 

''I am sure my son is equally delighted,'' Aegon heard his father's voice and he felt his gaze. He hesitated for a moment, now feeling the entire hall looking at him. As if anyone needed more reasons to think him a fool. He finally mustered his courage, stepping forward towards the guests. 

''My lady,'' he lightly kissed the extended hand of Lady Olenna, proceeding to Lady Margaery beside her. He was shaking with anxiety as he approached her, so bent on not spoiling his introduction that he was almost certain to do so. ''My l- lady,'' he began clumsily as she offered him her hand and he gently pressed his lips to it. She smelled of flowers. It was not a heavy scent, quite on the contrary, it seemed light and elegant, much like Margaery herself. ''I... I am pleased to... make... your acquaintance.'' he stuttered. 

''Your Grace,'' she gave him a wide smile as she looked at him with her deep brown eyes. ''the pleasure is mine.''


	3. Margaery I

The music, the smells of the various food being served and the unmistakable scent of wine filled the hall. Margaery was seated at the front table, beside her grandmother, the rest of the seats at the table filled by the members of the royal family, the King, Queen Elia, Princess Rhaenys, Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys, and, of course, Aegon. It was a place of honour, yet Margaery didn't feel particularly honoured. The dance floor in front of Margaery was teeming with couples spinning around to the melody of the musician troupe, but Aegon, seated beside his father on one side and Margaery on the other, seemed disinterested and remained quiet, at most responding to her compliments or courtesies with a nod or a plain answer. She saw him take a sip of the wine from time to time, but apart from that he appeared only to stare somewhere blankly. Margaery felt more and more irritated.

Finally, Rhaegar leaned towards his son and whispered something to him, clearly displeased. Aegon seemed to counter his father's words, but a stern stare convinced him otherwise and he stood up, turning to Margaery. 

''My lady, may I have the honour of dancing with you?''

His voice was blank and uncertain, yet Margaery was pleased she was finally getting somewhere.

''Of course, Your Grace,'' she responded enthusiastically, giving him one of her wide smiles and standing up, attaching herself to his arm as he led her to the dance floor. Once there, he turned to face her and lightly reached for her back, almost as if he were afraid to touch her. His other hand, joined with hers, was shaking nervously. They began to move to the music. He was a bit clumsy, but he seemed to be doing his best. He still remained silent, apparently concentrating on leading her on the dance floor.

Suddenly, his boot stepped on Margaery's foot. ''Oh, gods, gods, I'm so s- sorry!'' he let out quickly.

Margaery concealed her discomfort, smiling back at him. He wasn't the first dancer to step on her feet. 

''It's quite alright, Your Grace.'' 

After all, that was the first honest, non-forced thing she had heard from him.

They got back to the dancing and Margaery moved slightly closer to him, still keeping her encouraging smile. They didn't dance for long, since the song was ending. She once again wrapped her arm around his, but turned to him when he was about to lead her back to the table. ''Your Grace, I think I need to get some fresh air,'' she told him, ''would you mind accompanying me?'' she asked him, curious to see the prince's response. The air in the hall was indeed heavy and hot, but that wasn't her main motivation.

He was visibly taken by surprise. ''Uhm... but of course, my lady,'' he agreed after a short hesitation. Margaery gave her grandmother a brief smile as the couple walked out of the hall instead of returning to the table. They walked for a few short moments through two or three empty hallways before reaching a balcony overlooking Blackwater Bay. The air outside was still hot, but there was a certain freshness to it and the light sea breeze brought the scent of the ocean all the way up to them.

''This is wonderful, Your Grace. Thank you,'' she told him happily. He didn't say anything, only nodded, releasing her arm and moving to the railing, leaning against it. She remained still for a moment, before walking up to the railing herself, leaning against it right next to him. She wasn't exactly sure what was the matter with him. She inhaled and spoke. ''I'm sorry if I am making you uncomfortable.'' 

He turned to her, managing a sad smile. ''No, my lady... it's... just...'' he seemed to be at a loss for words. ''You must think I'm such a fool.'' he confessed finally.

''Aegon,'' she addressed him, imagining what the septas would tell her if they heard her call the crown prince by his name.

''you're not a fool.''

She extended her hand and gently laid it on top of his, smiling.


End file.
